Loosey
by I.C. Weener
Summary: Gives new meaning to the phrase "crazy burst angel."
1. Chapter 1

" _Ooba jokka meesa wakka ha ha ha."_

\- Jabba the Hutt

" _Sorry about the mess."_

\- Han Solo

* * *

The four members of RAPT were about to embrace their digital rapture. Sei, Jo, and Meg were kneeling on the ground with their hands tied behind their backs. They were closely guarded by a group of cyber gangsters who kept their appearances hidden behind black suits and black motorcycle helmets.

Further away, Amy was limply slouched over her knees with her arms held up. Her eyes were closed and her only movements were her breathing. A giant unnamed mech was parked behind her with electrical wiring dangling out of its fuselage. The cables trailed several yards downward and ended up in a jumbled mess around Amy's arms, head, and neck.

Several helmeted crew members were huddled around RAPT's information tactician with portable consoles linked to her neck cables. They were like a bunch of faceless techies obsessively managing a server that happened to be a skimpily dressed young girl. They labored anxiously over their tiny screens with their miniature keyboards, only stopping now and then to poke Amy on the cheek or on the forehead and make sure she was sound asleep.

The anonymous mob communicated to one another through speakers built on the grills of their shining black helmets. With the amount of audio distortion laced over their voices, they could have been men, they could have been women, or they could have been robotic squirrels. Daft Punk had turned wicked.

" _Give me a status update back there_ ," the leader ordered. They stood with their arms crossed and bobbed their helmet toward the anti-Amy task force.

" _The memory dump went through quick and all the psych edits are checking out OK,"_ said the one of the ones furiously typing _. "Still working on bringing her limiters down. She sure knew what she was doing when she was encrypting these babies."_

A helmeted assailant in the far back put their palm against their visor and shook their head.

" _Memories, memories. The memories are the easiest part to sort out. It's always the mammaries that give us the most trouble."_

" _Keep at her. I want to see all of those features enabled before she's initialized,"_ the commander said threateningly. _"We're not about to build a new infiltration bouncer out of some 2-bit Lollipop Guild glitch who likes to stay locked in her demo version."_

"Let her go!" Jo shouted from the ground. "We're the ones you're after! She's just a kid!"

The entire gang stopped what they were doing unison and blankly looked back and forth with their already blank faces. They began laughing to each other in garbled digitized voices.

" _Exactly how old do you think this woman is?"_ one of the RAPT members asked with a puzzled shrug.

"She told us she was 13," Sei replied.

" _26 is her real age,"_ said the faceless leader. _"She always liked picking numbers that could be divided by 2."_

Jo, Meg, and Sei were now the ones looking at each other in confusion.

" _Your little friend is a Telosploit,"_ another one of the tech-savvy strangers explained. _"They use nano-implants to suspend their growth genes at a young age. It makes them harder to ID and gives them some decent cover, but we've rounded up more than a handful already."_

Amy flinched in discomfort as electronic pulses charged through her body. The techies never lifted their heads from their diagnostic monitors.

"What are you doing to her, you sickos?!" Meg shouted.

" _She's been in debt with our group for quite some time,"_ the leader said sternly. _"Think of this as compounding the interest. It's all just a matter of cracking the algorithms she used to disable her estrogen emitters and jumpstart what Mother Nature always inten-"_

" _Got 'em, Chief,"_ one of the helmeted hackers next to Amy finally said, slamming their keypad down and stretching their arms like they just won the top score on an arcade machine.

Amy's hips were the first thing to drop their childish disguise, nearly snapping her thin pink belt apart as they widened and rounded. Her bust started with a half-second delay and quickly filled out what little space her jacket provided. The features of her face grew slightly refined while keeping their youthful quirks, and her brown pigtails grew all the way down to her naturally firming thighs. The entire process only made her grow another six inches taller as most, but the rest of her made up for it. She was one teddy bear with a little extra stuffing.

" _That's more like it,"_ the leader reverberated. _"Update her profile with her complete stats. We'll just have to get her in something that fits after we're done here."_

"Uhm…"

Amy quietly opened her light brown eyes as her brain was stirred out of sleep mode. She was released from the nest of cables and got to her feet with only a small struggle, quickly getting the hang of her adjusted center of balance. Walking toward the leader of the helmeted gang, she looked carefree, relaxed, and all too comfortable strutting her stuff. Jo, Meg, and Sei didn't even know she had stuff to strut.

Amy tucked her hands against her hips when she stopped next to the gang leader. She playfully shivered her shoulders as if the cooling fans were starting to kick on.

"Hoo. Talk about freeing up a girl's resources."

" _How are you feeling, Object 00784?"_ the leader asked her. 'Object' was the term used for every questionably licensed agent, prisoner, lab specimen, slum runner, or otherwise biological asset circulating between the criminal syndicate's formal ranks. The fact she would never be fully integrated with her uniformed and helmeted colleagues gave her more freedom in many ways, but it also left her expendable and easy to use as a scapegoat if things didn't go as planned.

And Amy was one Object that certainly wasn't set to a null reference.

"Hm. Pretty good, actually." she wrapped her arms behind her head and stretched her waist. Her already tiny jacket pulled up to expose more of her baby fat-free midriff. "Like someone just busted me out of that chicken nugget I've been stuck in forever."

" _I'm glad you're handling everything well. Now it's time to complete your authentication."_

The gang leader handed her a standard pistol. It was a little cumbersome for her longer but still narrow fingers, but she was enamored by it like a kid with a new toy.

"Nice try, morons," Jo mocked with her head hanging toward the ground. "She's the computer geek. We're the crack shots. She couldn't hit a target if all of our lives depended on it."

Amy stuck out her tongue, pointed her gun, and nailed a crumpled soda can sitting on the ground 50 yards away with perfect accuracy. The three RAPT members flinched.

One of the gangsters responsible for "updating" Amy tapped their fingers to the side of their helmet, pointing to their brain.

" _That's why we expanded her firearms proficiency along with everything else."_

" _We also enhanced her aggression. Bumped down most of her moral inhibitions, too,"_ said another one. _"Basically we left her a few megabytes short of a fully functioning hard drive."_

Amy studied the gun in her hands with curious innocence.

"Do you want me to kill them?" she smirked toward her anonymous commander.

" _Just dispose of one for now. Initiate chooses how to seal the deal. We'll bring the remaining two aboard for… questioning."_

"And I guess you'll have plenty of stuff to keep me busy once I patch out one of your bugs?" Amy tilted her head suggestively.

" _We'll start you off light. First we'll introduce you to your new equipment."_ The gang leader stopped to slowly glance her over, then added, _"Your **other** new equipment. Clean out some digital bank accounts, install some tracer programs through RAPT's backdoors, rig a multinational industry collapse, that sort of thing. Do a decent job and maybe we'll start talking about the bigger operations."_

Amy nodded with satisfaction. She slinked closer toward Jo, Meg, and Sei and held her gun with a small but steady two-handed grip.

Amy made her pick by quietly singing Eeny, Meeny to herself. The rest of the tech crew wrestled the three RAPT mercenaries further to the ground and kept them lined up on the firing range.

Amy pointed at the target, squeezed one eye shut to sharpen her aim, and fired.

* * *

 _Author's note: I wanted to punk up Amy since she's a cute cyberpunk chicker and that's like my Bat Signal in terms of character aesthetic, but I was weirded out by the fact she's like 10 in the show. Now that I think about it, my workaround for that might actually be a little weirder because now I've basically turned her into a Metal Gear Solid version of that Orphan movie. Have a Happy Shrekmas._

 _Author's note 2: 007 because I've been constantly listening to John Barry's timeless classic "Exercise at Gibraltar" from the Living Daylights soundtrack lately. 84 because 1984 was the year Godzilla 1985 came out in Japan, which was meant to be a dark and mature *reboot* of the series. Get it?_


	2. Chapter 2

_"Somebody put me back in the fridge."_

\- Demolition Man

* * *

Amy had traded her stuffy little command trailer for a fully dedicated command center. Out were the cramped boxy walls with wires tangled everywhere and a tiny cockpit seat thrown in the middle. In was the spacious alien disc structure with enough room for Amy's own support crew and guards, built around a relay cradle fit to be a queen's throne.

Amy had her legs propped up against an antenna pylon with her long brown tails shimmering down her sides. She was stretched back into a nest of broadband cables forming a sort of hammock. Her nails were effortlessly gliding across the keyboards hanging over her lap. One might say she was quite based.

Her outfit wasn't much different from her old mercenary get-up. The pink and white jacket was almost exactly the same, only the adult-sized version shrunk down the zipper ornament to put more emphasis on her chest. Most of the revisions were for her lower quadrants, where the window in her dress now came together at her waist (while still showing off plenty of midriff, of course). Her frilled white skirt almost fully encircled her thighs, while her pink belt was moved up a few inches to function as an actual belt rather than as a joke of a microskirt that barely kept her groin covered. A small, bright pink pleather holster dangled from her right hip so she could always have her sidearm handy.

The two dangling rings from her old jacket were linked together by a third ring. It trailed from a strip of fabric on the back of her skirt like a cat's tail, carefully looped between her legs to essentially become her underwear, and latched to the other rings just below her navel. Her colorful foot attire remained almost the same, only scaled up a few sizes and with mini two-inch pointed heels added for a little extra style.

Amy's body type was simply too complex and shapely to get away with just wearing a bigger version of her old outfit without risking some serious wardrobe complications. Strangely enough, this meant she was technically more modestly dressed in her sultry adult form than that little skimpy thing that she used to be.

Now, if only being spoiled with the best illegal hacking technology the criminal underworld had to offer would help her stay focused.

Another ACCESS DENIED panel flashed in front of her face, causing her to pout in frustration. These government stooges she'd been sent to wreak havoc on seemed too good for her. She tried everything she could think of to crack her way through the firewall. She attacked from every angle using floating point encryption, a shell sort, the Pythagorean Theorem, the Laws of Robotics, four different Grandfather Paradoxes, the Chewbacca Defense, and the Elton John Principle, but those stupid counter-intrusion sentries just wouldn't budge.

Amy shook her head and rubbed her eyes. This was her fifth hack job of the night, and her mind just wasn't staying in the game anymore after all the long hours playing hexadecimal Tetris. Situations like this meant she needed a little overclocking.

"Yo, Taco Bell. Time to get back in the tank."

Amy snapped her fingers and pointed down below her waist. The anonymous bodyguard who had been standing on-call to her left walked to the back of her cockpit platform.

Amy pulled her feet down and straddled her knees over a brightly lit maintenance portal below her power harness. She unfastened the third ring on her skirt with a quick and conveniently finger flick, allowing the small pink modesty panel that ran between her legs to swing open. Her new work dress had been designed with _all_ of her requested luxuries in mind.

The masked worker behind her dropped to the floor and rolled face-up on an automated rail system. The track loaded them underneath the antenna array and secured their head directly under Amy's parted legs. Their helmet had to be partially removed for functional purposes, but their identity was still safely hidden between the compressed curves of Amy's thighs and the frills of her skirt. The human tongue only needed a couple inches of clearance to be used effectively.

Amy gently rocked her hips to get herself the rest of the way situated and set the pace.

"Mnf… much better," she purred as she went back to work on her keyboard. She lowered her head to breathe more quietly and hide her light blush. The tiny rhythmic pivots she made with her waist helped her ignore all the outside pressure and regain her concentration.

Amy found her stride at the console and demonstrated her renowned skills as a cunning cyber thief. The grunt lying underneath her demonstrated their renowned skills as a cunning e-linguist. She hacked her way through the firewall at maddening speeds, working straight through an occasional yelp in her voice or a tiny involuntary spasm in her hips.

Finally, the long-awaited ACCESS GRANTED screen appeared. The pirated server suddenly burst open with joy and spilled all of its sweetest secrets like an overflowing bowl of honey. And so did Amy.

She sat back in her seat and sighed in multiple degrees of satisfaction. She gave her helper a rewarding pat on the head, pushed them out from under her by throwing an Eject lever next to her seat, and calmly clasped her center belt-ring back into place. With another job well done, Amy stood up in her antenna array and stretched.

* * *

 _Author's note: Amy really likes the movie Swordfish and I really hate the game Breath of the Wild._


End file.
